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MEMOIR: BUZZ BURRELL
16
MEMOIR: BUZZ BURRELL
16
Silly me. I forgot I’d told Monsieur Shah about Lauren; how we’d met; etc...
Thus understandable confusion rattled down the telephone wire between Abul Shah and
myself, when I explained how I’d love to come to Sylhet with him, as long as I could
bring my WIFE, Lauren. The poor bloke couldn’t sort out what I was saying, but I igno-
rantly persisted, and explained we’d been married for 8 months, and how silly of me
not to mention it before.
Oh my God. To give you some idea of how I hated lying, after putting the
phone down I really felt terrible. There was this cute little bank manager,
keen for a weekend away, and the man he’s invited had fascinated him with
the romantic story of how he’s just met his girlfriend, only to be told a few
days later they’d been married eight months. I couldn’t cope with having
lied to this honest man, he deserved my coming clean. Thinking on my feet,
I had this notion I could blame some fictitious prudes who would have been
eavesdropping whilst I was talking to him. There, that would have cleared
everything up.
How did I get out of it? The resuscitation programme. I rang Abul again that evening,
and explained how sorry I was for confusing him. Of course Lauren and myself were not
married. BUT the people with whom we were staying were devout Muslims, and would
have been shocked to receive myself plus girlfriend, thus we had to pretend we were
married in front of them, and it was in front of them we were ‘phoning earlier (what
bullshit!)
Moreover, when we go to Sylhet, Lauren would feel more “protected” if she were mar-
ried, so would he mind going along with our façade?
It worked, he agreed. God I hate lying. To bed, to recover from my exhausting sins.